There was a moment when Kieron’s thigh parted hers, when she felt spiralling panic and fought against him, but the rebellion was brief, her body already writhing heatedly even while her muscles contracted in protest.
‘It’s all right,’ Kieron muttered thickly, caressing her into relaxation, his ‘Oh God, Briony!’ lost in her own sharply passionate cry as her body welcomed him back with passionate sincerity.
She fell asleep still held in his arms, her body aching pleasurably, and her lips still curved in a slight smile.
When she woke up she was alone, and as realisation filtered through her mind sick panic clawed inside her. There was no sign of Kieron and somewhere deep inside her she had known that there would not be. Like the unreeling of an old film, pictures from the past flashed before her brain, memories of that other time filling her mind like the contents of Pandora’s box. She was sitting up in bed, her arms locked tightly round her knees, rocking herself from side to side in mindless terror, when Kieron walked in.
‘Briony.’
He tried to release her arms, but they were locked in place, her eyes burning with self-revulsion and pain as she stared at him.
‘Did you think I’d left you?’ he demanded comprehendingly. ‘Oh, Briony….’ He made to take her in his arms, but she drew back, her eyes wild and bitter.
‘Can’t you leave me alone?’
A spasm of anger tightened his face.
‘You weren’t saying that a while ago,’ he reminded her tautly. ‘Far from it.’
Panic filled her. Another moment and he would have guessed how she felt about him. How he would deride her! How could any man who had made a marriage such as theirs be anything other than cynical about love?
‘It was for Nicky’s sake,’ she flung at him. ‘I don’t want him to be an only child!’
For a moment she thought he was going to hit her. His face had gone white and almost ugly. ‘My God, you mean you actually.… But of course it was for Nicky; whose needs are paramount, and for whose sake his mother so nobly sacrificed herself to my repulsive embrace and possession. I don’t know whether to laugh or throw up,’ he told her brutally.
‘You were the one who said he needed a family,’ Briony pointed out in a shaken voice. She had come too far to back down now. ‘It was what you wanted too.’
‘Was it? How the hell do you know what I wanted? You’re incapable of knowing because you’re incapable of human feelings. You wouldn’t even begin to have the faintest idea about the needs which motivate real people. And to think I actually thought all that damned play-acting.…’ He turned away abruptly. ‘One day Nicky is going to grow up, and then what are you going to do with the rest of your life? Well, somewhere deep down inside that calculating little mind of yours lurks a real live woman, and I won’t rest until I dig her out.’
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ He watched her broodingly. ‘Perhaps because you’ve just dealt me the biggest insult a woman can give a man, and my pride won’t rest until I’ve held you in my arms and made you into a woman. Don’t worry that I’m going to try tonight, though,’ he added, surveying the large bed. ‘My ego’s taken just as much as it can for now. You really know how to emasculate a man, don’t you, Briony? I’ll sleep in Nicky’s bed for tonight, I don’t think I could stand to share yours.’
What had she done? Briony thought numbly when he had gone. Oh God, what had she done? He wouldn’t rest now until he had totally destroyed her, because that was what would happen if he carried out his threat. And she knew that he would.
As she lay sleepless in the huge bed she contemplated taking Nicky and leaving straight away, but Kieron had her passport, and besides, she had no money. If she could just survive this holiday, once they got back to England she would tell him that she wanted a divorce. She drifted off into nightmare-fractured sleep where a judge was calmly ordering that Nicky be chopped in half to be equally divided between his arguing parents.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE shops in Nice drew awed gasps from Briony. Marian employed a taciturn, grizzled expatriate Scotsman to drive her car and care for the villa gardens, and he had taken them into the capital of the Maritime Alps.
Briony had already apologised profusely to her hostess for burdening her with Nicky and falling asleep, but Marian had swept her apologies aside with a charming smile, assuring Briony that she was not to worry.
‘Héloise was thrilled, and Nicky is already the apple of her eye,’ she informed Briony, who had observed the truth of this statement for herself at breakfast.
Kieron had not put in an appearance at the table on the sunny patio and when Marian mentioned that he had gone swimming and was not likely to return until after they had left, Briony felt able to relax properly and enjoy her breakfast of croissants and apricot preserve.
In fact Marian had been wrong, and he had appeared just as they were leaving, his lean body tanned and glowing with health, Nicky clinging excitedly to his shoulders.
Kieron hadn’t looked at Briony, and she had been astounded when as they were getting in the car, he had pulled her back against him, feathering a lazily explorative kiss along the curve of her throat, before turning her into his arms and kissing her properly. But then she had remembered that Marian was watching them and guessed that the embrace was for her benefit. Unless—and she shivered to think about it—he had already begun his hunt for the woman he claimed she was concealing.
‘What do you think of that bikini?’ Marian asked, drawing Briony’s attention to a brief bandeau top of emerald green silk and minute briefs that tied in bows over the hips.
‘It’s outrageous,’ Briony said frankly. ‘And so is the price.’ Marian laughed. ‘It’ll suit you. Let’s go in and we can see how it looks on.’
It was useless for Briony to protest; Marian intended to have her own way. The bikini was purchased, despite Briony’s scandalised protests, and so were a pair of skimpy matching shorts and a soft green and white striped toning tee-shirt.
‘Have you brought anything special with you for evening?’ Marian asked her later. ‘Kieron is bound to take you to one of the casinos and although anything goes during the daytime, in the evening, especially in the casinos, high fashion is very much the order of things.’